


No Reason To Run

by foxcatcher



Series: Same Kind of Bad [2]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: And so is Regal, Face Slapping, Gym Tantrums, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mentions of Past Relationship(s) - Freeform, Pete is Desperate and Stubborn, Porn With Complicated Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Rough Oral Sex, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 01:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15984491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxcatcher/pseuds/foxcatcher
Summary: When you sleep, I will creep into your thoughtsLike a bad debt that you can't payTake the easy way and give inPete was getting close to the breaking point. Regal was sure of it - he'd kept a close eye on him following the UK Tournament and he was more than happy to bide his time until the boy came crawling back to him. But Pete had to be so bloody stubborn...





	No Reason To Run

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "Same Kind of Bad".
> 
> More porn, because I love this pairing, and why not. I also realised way too late that I've no idea what performance centre they're supposed to be at, so let's all pretend that there is a UK Performance Centre (unless there is one now).

> _When you sleep_  
>  _I will creep_  
>  _Into your thoughts_  
>  _Like a bad debt_  
>  _That you can’t pay_  
>  _Take the easy way_  
>  _And give in_
> 
> \- “The More You Ignore Me, the Closer I Get” – Morrissey

Pete was getting close to the breaking point.

Regal was sure of it. Something had come unstuck in the younger man after his little “attitude adjustment”. Maybe it had always been there, maybe he’d just been good at hiding it, but he’d felt it the moment Pete had arched back into his touch, seen it in his eyes when he’d left him in the locker room afterwards, hard and humiliated. There was no question about it. Something had changed. So he’d kept a close eye on the boy in the days following the UK Tournament, waiting, watching as it slowly ate away at him.

It was just a question of time. Pete knew it too, and he was doing a terrible job of hiding it. Though not for a lack of trying – every day, he would come in to training as usual, looking a little worse for wear, his shoulders hunched under an invisible weight. Despite the temptation to corner Pete again and simply take, William kept his distance, content to wait until the boy came crawling to him. It was close, so close he could almost taste it. All Pete had to do was give in. Swallow his pride and beg Regal for what he so obviously needed.

But Pete had to be so bloody _stubborn_.

And so it had continued, with William carefully watching Pete and Pete watching him back, both men refusing to take the first step. Something had to give eventually.

And William was a very patient man.

\---

Pete lasted three whole _weeks_.

They were at the Performance Centre, Dunne sparring with Trent like it was any other day, and Regal would have been impressed with the boy’s resolve if he didn’t seem like he might crack any second. Pete was an asshole on a good day, but he’d been getting progressively worse throughout the passing weeks - today, he’d been an absolute terror, snapping at anyone who so much as looked at him the wrong way.

Regal’s patience was wearing thin, too. It wasn’t as if he’d thought Pete would give in without a fight – it was _Pete_ – but he’d never expected him to last this long. It didn’t help that Pete looked particularly tempting in his workout gear, or that his eyes kept flitting to the older man when he thought he wasn’t looking, sweat and desperation rolling off him in equal measures. The temptation to drag the boy off to the nearest broom closet and fuck him senseless was overwhelming, but that wouldn’t do. Pete had to understand that he had to come to Regal, not the other way around. He was the one holding the cards here. Even if he was slowly losing his mind…

The air in the gym was stifling, and William was leaning against the wall next to the ring in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat as he observed Pete and Trent, having shed his jacket a long time ago. The two had just got started, still going through the simpler moves, but something already seemed off about Pete, his reactions sluggish and jerky as they moved between the ropes. Regal had the niggling feeling that it was only a matter of time before something went wrong, and maybe he shouldn’t be allowing one of their top talents to train in the condition he was in, but _maybe_ he was a little too distracted by the flush creeping down Pete’s chest to dwell on it, or the way his tank top would sometimes slide to the side, revealing a glimpse of a dusky nipple. Maybe.

Soon enough, something did go wrong.

Trent moved in for a Seven Star Lariat, easily slamming his arms into the other man’s chest, but Pete tensed mid-spin, falling to the mat and landing heavily on his shoulder.

Regal held his breath. This was bad. Normally, Pete would have bounced back immediately – normally, he wouldn’t have had a problem with the move at all – but instead, he rolled onto his side and curled into himself, away from his partner. William couldn’t quite see his face, but he recognised the taut curve of his back, the soft, pained moan.

This was _really_ bad.

“Mate, you alright?”

Oblivious to what was happening, Trent knelt down to his friend’s crumpled form and reached out to check on him. As soon as he’d brushed against his shoulder, Pete jerked like he’d been burned. He sprung to his feet, red-faced and wild-eyed, and slapped away Trent’s still outstretched hand.

“What the fuck was that?!” he yelled, voice straining.

“Wha-?” Trent staggered back as Pete shoved at him. He couldn’t have looked more confused if he’d tried. “What the hell’s crawled up your arse lately, Pete?” he barked, shoving his friend back. “It’s not my fucking fault you’re all in our head!”

The rest of the room had grown silent, all eyes fixed on the ring where Trent and Pete were almost literally butting heads, swearing at each other, hands clenched like they were waiting for the other to throw the first punch. 

“That’s _enough_!”

Regal had pushed his way to the ring past the mass of confused onlookers, and he was fuming. Both Seven and Dunne immediately shut up, suddenly aware of the audience they’d attracted, even as the tension still crackled between them.

Trent was the first to step back.

“Sorry, sir, I didn’t-“ he began, sounding appropriately embarrassed by the scene they’d caused.

“Shut it,” Regal cut him off without looking at him. Pete hadn’t moved an inch since he stepped into the ring, still half-braced for a fight, and William had been ready to give the boy a proper scolding, seeing as he insisted on behaving like a complete brat. Then he’d seen his eyes.

They were locked on him, pleading, filled with raw, barely-held-together emotion. By his sides, his knuckles were turning white. The situation was much more dire than he’d initially thought. He needed to act right now.

“Dunne. Come with me.”

He turned on his heel and slipped out of the ring, walking towards the exit. After a few seconds, a set of tentative footsteps followed his.

\---

As soon as they were out of view, Regal put a firm hand on the back of Pete’s neck and began steering him through the Centre’s winding maze of corridors. To his credit, Pete kept his mouth shut and let himself be led along, eyes down and jaw tight like a misbehaving school boy being taken to the headmaster’s office for the umpteenth time. In the bright light of the corridor, William could see how the weeks had worn at him. And worn, it had. Pete looked _haggard_ , dark circles under his eyes and unkempt stubble, his shoulders so tense that he seemed to almost vibrate, ready to explode. Under Regal’s palm, the boy’s skin was hot and slick with sweat from the sparring, and under that again he could feel his pulse beating rabbit-quick.

Had he fought this hard the whole time? Or had he tried to scratch the itch, to no avail? Regal couldn’t help but wonder – Pete looked like he’d barely slept in the three weeks – and a less focused part of him was flooded with images of the boy curled up in bed, biting his pillow as he fingered himself, unable to find the relief he needed. It almost made him angry. _Reckless. Stupid._ Not only had Pete not learned anything from last time and stubbornly tried to battle through it on his own, but he had to go and put other people at risk as well. He tightened his grip on Pete’s neck and steered the sullen boy around another corner.

The silence only lasted until they reached the showers.

_“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you-“_

Pete was seething as the taller man manhandled him through the doors and past the lockers, the weeks of anger and frustration and embarrassment and helplessness brimming over all at once.

“Don’t be bloody stupid,” Regal said calmly, paying no mind to the way Pete was clawing at his chest, and pushed him further into the tiled room until he stumbled and fell backwards against the shower wall. It was early enough that the room was completely empty, everyone else busy in the performance centre, probably trying to work out what the hell had just happened.

The boy was still swearing as he slid down to the floor. Before he could get up, Regal reached out and turned the tap above him on to full spray.

Pete yelped as the water beat down on him, fumbling for purchase on the wet tiles to push himself up, but Regal easily nudged him back under the cold spray with a foot to his injured shoulder. The water quickly soaked through the boy’s thin workout gear, making them cling to his skin as he spluttered against it. Regal stood over him with, watching the boy flail with an unreadable expression as he carefully rolled up his sleeves, before crouching down next to Pete’s hunched form. By now, the water had warmed up enough so that Pete wasn’t shrinking away from it anymore, and he was looking up at Regal with guarded eyes, his hair plastered to his face, trying to work out what the older man was planning.

Without a word, William lifted a hand and slapped him. 

_Hard._

The impact tore a startled, rough sound out of the boy.

“We’ve been through this already, Pete. I know that you know why we’re here,” he said evenly, almost exasperated. “I don’t know why you have to make this so difficult for everyone.” Another slap, and this time, Pete moaned outright, his legs spreading on their own accord. “It’s really very simple: if you need anything, you come to me. You don’t go and get yourself all worked up, and you definitely don’t do something like that. Stop fighting it.”

He brought his hand to the boy’s face, brushing the wet fringe out of his eyes. Pete didn’t even flinch. He just stared up at him with wide, bright eyes, and Regal could see the conflict in them, the need, the anger, could see him trying to find the words to ask for something he’d tried so hard to push away – something he maybe didn’t even fully understand.

“Please.”

The word sounded foreign coming out of him, like it couldn’t quite fit in his mouth.

“Please what?” Regal asked sternly.

Pete hesitated, shying away from the older man’s unrelenting gaze, and something flared up in Regal at it. Even now, drenched to the bone and wound tightly enough to be a danger to himself, he would rather stamp it down than admit it. Didn’t he get it? Didn’t he get any of this?

Suddenly furious, William pulled away and slapped Pete again - and again - and again, water spraying everywhere, until both his palm and his cock were throbbing with it. He got up on his feet and shook his aching hand. The blows had only agitated him more, and he took a few deep breaths through his nose to calm himself before he turned back where Pete was slumped against the wall, head lolling to the side. Turning off the shower, Regal crouched in front of the boy again and gripped his jaw, digging his fingers into the bruised skin as he made him face him.

There were tears at the corners of Pete’s eyes, his brows knit and his chest rising and falling with every laboured breath. William could see the outline of his erection through the wet material of his shorts.

“I’m going to try again. Please _what_?” Regal asked, sliding his hand down to the boy’s neck and inhaling sharply as Pete arched into the touch.

“Please,” he gasped, gripping Regal’s wrist like he was afraid the older man might let go. “I need this. Anything. Just- just make it _stop_.”

“Now, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” Regal smiled and patted him jovially on the cheek. Pete was not yet so far gone that he couldn’t scowl at the mocking gesture, but it quickly disappeared as William got up on his feet and unzipped his trousers, crowding in on the younger man until his head was pressed against the tiles, neck forced straight. His eyes were fixed on Regal’s cock as he stroked it, almost close enough to touch, lips slightly parted as if in awe. This close, Regal could see that there were still droplets of water running down Pete’s face, tracing the sharp line of his nose, his cheekbones, almost like a caress.

“Open your mouth,” William said, less steady than he intended. “And don’t touch yourself.”

Not that he needed to tell him – Pete’s hands were flat against the ground as Regal rubbed the head of his cock against the boy’s flushed lips, feeling his breath ghost over it. Nonetheless, Pete did as he was told, baring those sharp teeth and the pink tongue behind them.

William swore internally. This was a far cry from the angry, fraying man he’d seen in the ring earlier, and the sight was nearly enough to make his head spin. Every fibre in his body was screaming at him to grab hold of the boy’s hair and fuck his throat until he couldn’t breathe, but he forced himself to remain calm. Slow, torturously slow, he eased his cock past Pete’s lips, sliding over his soft tongue, steadily pushing in until the boy threatened to gag - a soft little _ulp_ around the head.

He didn’t pull back. Instead, he held Pete there, at his mercy, trapped between Regal and the wall while he willed his throat to relax.

“There you go, there you go. Easy does it,” he cooed, stroking a hand over Pete’s wet hair as the boy breathed hard through his nose. “Good boy.”

Oh. _Oh_. Well, wasn’t that an interesting development.

The endearment had slipped out more or less by accident, but Pete reacted to it straight away – an imperceptible twitch of his shoulders, fingers curling against the floor, a choked-off sound around the dick in his mouth.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” Regal smirked, pulling back so Pete could gulp down a lungful or air. “Look at me.”

Begrudgingly, Pete looked up at the older man, trying for a scowl that was marred somewhat by the flush that had crept up to the tips of his ears. “Such a _good boy_ ,” Regal purred, tapping his cock against the boy’s lips before sliding back in, deep and measured. “Being so good for me.”

Pete made another soft, urgent sound despite himself, eyes fluttering shut as Regal’s cock brushed against the back of his throat. When he seemed about ready, William began moving, setting a pace just at the edge of what the boy could handle, keeping him on his toes, delighting in the odd moan that would escape him.  
While he was doing an admirable job of keeping up with it all, Pete was no natural, and a thought suddenly struck Regal, like a punch to the gut. Pete seemed pretty new to this. In fact, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that he’d never blown anyone before, if he was going to judge by the way he gagged when the next thrust went deeper than expected, eyes watering and legs kicking against the ground. Which meant that he could very well be the first to touch Pete like this.

And Pete was letting him.

William leant his forearms against the wall, lightheaded with it, and looked down at the younger man framed by his arms – his eyes squeezed shut in concentration, damp eyelashes fanned out against his cheeks, and William’s cock sliding in and out between his red, swollen lips.

Shit.

He was so utterly, utterly fucked. It was almost too much – his hips bucked involuntarily, and Pete choked at the sudden movement, his teeth scraping against William’s shaft. It was barely a graze, but enough to give the pleasure a sharp, dangerous edge.

“ _Fuck_.”

Without warning, Regal pushed away from the wall, pulling out and slapped Pete sharply across the face. The boy rasped out a moan and ducked after him, pressing his wet, glistening mouth to the side of his erection, like he might die if he didn’t get his dick back in him. Regal groaned raggedly, fisting his hand in Pete’s still-dripping hair so he could pull him onto his cock, and Pete just took it, his palms leaving wet prints on the older man’s trousers as he fucked into his mouth. It was as if something had fallen in place in the boy, just like it had last time – every thrust forced sweet, desperate little sounds out of him that William knew he’d hear in his fantasies for years. Pete was being good, so good, letting Regal hold his head just so to get the perfect angle where he could slide deep into his throat, even as his eyes were watering, nose running, and Christ, _the boy was still hard_.

“Shit,” Regal bit out and came down Pete’s throat, holding him in place by his neck. The boy’s hands scrabbled against his thighs as he struggled to swallow, and William ran a hand under his chin, feeling the boy’s Adam’s apple bob with it. He swore again, gave a few weak thrusts, before pulling out and releasing him.

Pete fell heavily against the damp tiles, gasping and coughing. Head still reeling from his orgasm, William knelt down, careless of the way the water soaked through his trousers, and pulled the boy’s shorts down. When he finally touched him, Pete bucked almost violently, hands flying to grab at his waistcoat.

“Please, please, please-” the boy’s voice was gravelly from the rough treatment, but the word was flowing freely, like a dam had been broken in him. There was no time for teasing anymore. Regal jerked him off with firm strokes, his skin feverishly warm against his palm. William thought he might burn up alongside him – his good boy was trembling with it, hips moving with his strokes, fucking into his hand. He put a thumb to Pete’s panting, abused mouth, and Pete took it in so readily, breath sobbing around it. His face was a mess of drying tears and spit, eyes glazed over as he looked at him, mouth as hot and silky smooth around the digit as it had been around his cock. Regal pushed the thumb into his cheek, making it bulge. Jesus. It had never been like this with Dean. Dean had never allowed himself to be this open, had never _needed_ like this – he’d been more than happy to throw himself at the next person when he was done with Regal. The thought of anyone else getting to see Pete like this made his skin crawl.

“Mine,” he growled, extracting his thumb and pushing two fingers in for Pete to bite and drool all over, his sharp front teeth scraping against the knuckles. “That’s it, you get it now, don’t you? You’re mine.”

Pete nodded dumbly, tightening his hold on the waistcoat. Regal dragged the fingers down the boy’s chest, leaving a drying trail of spit in their wake. “No one else’s. No more running.”

“Ff-fuck,” Pete managed shakily as the hand on his dick sped up. Pulling the strap of his tank top to the side, William brushed his thumb over a peaked nipple, before pinching it hard.

“ _Mine_.”

With a sharp cry, Pete came, shooting into Regal’s hand like it had been wrung out of him.

William let him lean against his chest as he came down, his head against his shoulders, making his shirt damp. The boy was lost to the world, blissfully unaware of the busy gym just a few doors away or their awkward closeness, Regal’s hand cradling his neck. Somehow, it didn’t matter to Regal either. He let his parted lips rest against Pete’s hair, not quite a kiss, not quite _not_ , and listened to the boy breathe, the room filled with a buzzing sort of calm.


End file.
